


More Than Life: Troll!CalliopeXPerfectionist!Reader

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Bullying, Depression, F/F, Female Homosexuality, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Homophobic Language, Offscreen Domestic Abuse, Possibly Triggering, Reader Insert, Troll Caliborn, Troll Calliope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 02:02:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2674730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Full title: More Than Life: Troll!Abused!CalliopeXFem!Human!Perfectionist!Reader</i>
</p>
<p>You're just a teenager.  You shouldn't have to deal with this.  It's too hard, it's too hard and no one cares.</p>
<p>At least you have her.  As long as you have each other, you'll be okay.</p>
<p>Right?</p>
<p>(There will eventually be a second part)</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Life: Troll!CalliopeXPerfectionist!Reader

**Author's Note:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS: contains themes of domestic abuse, bullying, depression, and attempted suicide**  
>  Homestuck and its associated characters belong to Hussie  
> Jana, Tristan, and the writing belong to me

The sound of a dial tone echoed through the room, empty except for a girl sitting on her perfectly made bed, with tears drawing lines through her heavy makeup. She clutched her silver smartphone like it was a lifeline.

 

_“Hello?”_

 

The (s/t), (h/c) haired girl smiled, even through the tears, and placed the phone to her ear.

 

“H-hey, Callie-O.”

 

_“Oh my goodness, (y/n), are you okay? What’s wrong?”_

 

“They’re at it again. Same crap, different day.” the girl said softly, falling backwards onto her bed. Her hair splayed out over her creamy pillow, clinging to it and fanning out. “What about you? Are you okay?”

 

_“He’s been gone most of the day, so it’s been okay. Do you want me to come over?”_

 

(Y/n) felt selfish, horribly so, seeing as the troll on the other side of the line had more problems to deal with than her, but...she knew she would feel better if she saw her girlfriend.

 

“If...if it wouldn’t be too much trouble….”

 

_“Dear, you know it isn’t trouble when I come to see you.”_

 

(Y/n) bit her lip. “Okay, then. Could you, please?”

 

_“I’ll be there as soon as I can, lovely. Hang on. I love you.”_

 

“Love you too, Callie-O.” (Y/n) hung up the phone. She got up, and looked at herself in the mirror over her drawers. She didn’t like what she saw, but that was nothing new. She never saw anything worthwhile in there, just the same girl who screwed up everything, who didn’t get the right grades, who didn’t listen to the right music, who couldn’t make her parents happy.

She remembered....

“So, how did you do today, sweetheart?”

 

(y/n) stared at her plate of meatloaf, rice, and carrots, suddenly not hungry. She had gotten a B on her history test today, and she had hoped her parents wouldn’t ask about it. Apparently, hope hadn’t meant anything.

 

“I...um, I took a history test and did pretty well.”

 

Her mother frowned, her plucked brows arching above her (e/c) eyes. She leaned forward, giving her only child the look only mothers could give, the one that made children’s minds fill with guilt and pain. (Y/n) shrank back in her seat.

 

“How well is ‘well’, (y/n)?”

 

“Um, I got a B.”

 

Her mother sat back, steepling her fingers together. Her father rubbed his temples, and shared a look with his wife.

 

“(Y/n),” he began, frowning. “we know you can do better than that. You’ve been doing so well lately. What happened? You should be getting straight A’s by now!”

 

(Y/n) bit her lip, scooting farther down into her chair. “Nothing happened...I just studied like I always did, then I read a book before I went to bed.”

 

“If you had enough time for reading something unassigned, then you had more time to study.” her mother snapped. “Don’t do it again.”

 

She got up from the table and went into the kitchen. (y/n) could hear the clanks of pots and pans as her mother cleaned up from dinner. Her father got up, and placed his hands on (y/n)’s shoulders. They felt like heavy weights pinning her down.

 

“I know we can be hard, (y/n), but we do it for your own good.” He planted a small kiss on the girl’s forehead, moved away, and picked up his own plate. “Finish up, and then you can go study again. We don’t want another bad grade, do we?”

 

He went out into the kitchen, leaving (y/n) behind. Through the silent tears that were beginning to fall, she heard them quietly arguing. Why wasn’t she good enough? That grade wasn’t even very bad! Why didn’t they think that was good?

 

The girl shoveled food into her mouth, chewing and swallowing mechanically through a film of tears. The faster she finished, the faster she could get out of here, so they wouldn’t see her cry.

 

***

 

Calliope Acrylic walked quickly down the street, glancing around to make sure no one was near. Trolls and humans still didn’t get along very well, and she was a cautious girl by nature. She held her bookbag close to her chest, which looked heavy but was really just filled with a few random things, seeing as she guessed both she and (y/n) had already finished their homework. The bookbag was only for appearances, and to get into her matesprit’s house more easily.

 

Calliope walked as quickly as she could without looking weird, as her right leg still hurt from when her brother had gotten angry with her today. Thankfully, she still had some face paint hidden under her bed, and it did a good job of hiding the bruises on her face. The ones on her body could be hidden by clothes. Calliope had it down to an art.

 

She came up to her history partner, and secret matesprit’s, house, and looked up. (Y/n)’s light was still on, but the normal pacing shadow of the girl couldn’t be seen through the window. The light was also on in the living room. Calliope bit her lip, walked up to the door, and knocked three times.

 

It opened to show a stern looking woman, still wearing work clothes, with perfectly neat hair and makeup. The woman’s eyes scanned Calliope, who felt more and more uncomfortable each moment. It felt like going through an x-ray scanner at the airport; this woman left no detail unnoticed, and judged by every wrinkle, every knot, and every unusual trait. Calliope hoped this woman, who had to be (y/n)’s mother, wouldn’t see through the makeup covering her bruises.

 

“What are you doing here?” the woman asked sharply. She stood in the doorway, blocking Calliope from even seeing inside. Calliope shifted on her feet, then smiled brightly up at the woman, trying to ignore her raising eyebrows.

 

“Hi, I’m Calliope Acrylic, (y/n)’s history partner!” she said cheerfully, watching as the woman’s eyebrows lowered slightly. “She called me a bit ago, and said she was having trouble with the material, so I offered to come and help her brush up!”

 

The woman wrinkled her nose for a moment, then said, “Wait here,” and shut the door in Calliope’s face. Calliope waited there for about ten minutes, shivering and wishing she had brought a warmer coat, before the door opened again. (Y/n)’s mother stood to the side, gesturing sharply for Calliope to come in. Calliope stepped into the pristine living room, which didn’t really deserve the name. It looked like it came straight out of a furniture store catalogue.

 

The colors were perfectly coordinated, pale creams and browns and the occasional splash of light blue. The pillows and cushions on the couch were fluffed perfectly, and had no trace of ever being sat upon. Grayscale photographs in plain black frames hung on the wall, and Calliope had to remove her shoes at the door, so as to not spread dirt over the creamy carpet.

 

“(Y/n)’s room is upstairs, the second door on the right. You’ll have to leave at eight, so she can get some sleep.” The mother pointed up the stairs. Calliope nodded, and walked up the stairs, wincing when she banged her shin on the wall, hitting one of her older bruises. The uneasy perfection continued up the stairs, with the same flawless carpet. A single tiny table with a pot of fake lavender stood at the end of the hallway, beneath a picture of the beach (y/n) had told her about.

 

Calliope knocked on (y/n)’s door, to be met by a young human girl with reddened eyes, tear tracks still drying on her face. (Y/n) stood aside, allowing Calliope to enter, before shutting the door and running into the troll’s arms. Calliope crooned in Alternian to the silently sobbing human, pulling her along before she laid down on the perfectly made bed, letting the human cry into her coat.

 

Calliope wasn’t sure how long it had taken for (y/n) to calm down, but she noticed immediately when the girl curled her fingers into her green tailcoat. Calliope looked down, to see a pair of (e/c) eyes staring up at her, tears once again filling them. Calliope frowned, and stroked the girl’s cheek, asking, “What’s wrong now?”

 

(Y/n) chewed her lip, and brought her hand up to her mouth to begin chewing on her nails, but Calliope intercepted, and caught the girl’s hand tightly in her own.

 

“I feel guilty,” she whispered, turning her face into Calliope’s collarbone. Calliope sighed, and pulled the girl more tightly against her.

 

“You don’t need to feel guilty, love. You can’t possibly take on everything yourself.”

 

“But I’m being _weak!_ ” the girl protested, sitting up, and dashing the tears away from her face violently, leaving a red mark on her face. There was even a scratch from her bitten down nails.

 

(Y/n) got off the bed and began to pace, digging her fingers into her palms. “You do so much for me. Jesus, you took care of me when I broke down in school like a little baby. You’re getting beaten by your fuckass of a brother every day, and you still put up with my stupid bullshit!”

 

Calliope stood up, and pulled the girl back into her arms. “You’ve been spending too much time with Karkat.” Calliope mumbled. “You never swear.”

 

“I don’t really care, Callie.” (y/n) whispered, hugging Calliope tightly, attempting and failing to keep her tears in.

 

“Shh...shh...it’ll be okay, (y/n).” Calliope whispered. “It’ll be okay.”

 

***

 

Calliope ended up staying the night, which was honestly what happened a lot. (Y/n) hated leaving her to walk home alone in the dark, and her parents didn’t care about it. Calliope always brought some of her things along whenever she went to go see (y/n), in case Caliborn got into a mood, so she was prepared. They had stayed up till midnight watching (y/n)’s movie collection, but both of them were in the habit of getting up early, so school wouldn’t be a problem.

 

(Y/n) was the first one to wake up, as usual. She stretched and yawned as quietly as she could, doing her best not to wake up the troll sleeping on her bedroom couch. Calliope always curled up on her side when she slept, with her face scrunched up cutely. (Y/n) tried to wake up first whenever Calliope stayed over, just so she could get a look at the sleeping girl. But, it also came with the territory of making sure said girl could get some much-needed sleep.

 

(Y/n) stood up carefully, picking her way over the creaky floorboards to her dresser. She pulled out a dark gray skirt, a pair of (f/c) plaid socks, and her underwear, and moved over to her closet, where she pulled out a long sleeve (f/c) shirt with white edging. She moved past Calliope and out to the bathroom.

 

She had just gotten out of the shower, dressed and was washing her face when Calliope came in with bleary eyes, yawning. (Y/n) hugged her quickly, then turned back to the towel, burying her face in it to dry while Calliope got in the shower. When (y/n) heard the quiet call that she was in, she removed the towel, and slipped back into her room to change. Calliope finished after a few minutes and returned to the room to see (y/n) painting over her face, makeup boxes strewn across the floor while she looked into the tiny mirror on her bed.

 

The small half mess looked extremely unnatural in the near perfection of (y/n)’s room. Calliope was just as neat as anyone, but the cleanliness and organization of the room unnerved her whenever she came over. (Y/n)’s bed was always perfectly made, there was never a speck on the carpet, and basically, the room looked more like something out of a picture than something actually lived in. There were a few hints of (y/n)’s real personality--the (f/c) comforter on the bed, the small collection of CD’s sitting alphabetically organized in their own container on her desk, the varied books on her shelves--but mostly, the room was a carbon copy of the rest of the house; that is, perfectly orderly, completely devoid of personality, and not looking like people lived there, just performed.

 

Calliope frowned, as she watched (y/n) apply various powders and creams to her face, occasionally dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. The gray hand placed on her shoulder made (y/n) look up and smile at Calliope, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Her face was now flawless, but it didn’t look like her any more.

 

“Why do you always do that? You don’t need the makeup to look beautiful.”

 

(Y/n) smiled, faint tears sparkling in her eyes, before she carefully wiped them away, to avoid getting rid of the concealer that hid her dark circles. 

 

“I know I don’t for you, Calliope, but unfortunately, I do for my parents, and the rest of this shi-crappy society.”

 

Calliope knelt, and wrapped her arms around the girl. (Y/n) leaned back into her embrace, allowing her shoulders to shake but no tears to fall. The teachers and guidance counselors at their school were very good at spotting tear tracks or upset people, and the last thing (y/n) wanted was to attract attention. She didn’t like people looking at her like she needed help.

 

It was just easier to pretend she was okay.

 

As usual, Calliope and (y/n) made their way to school slowly, wanting to avoid the crowd of kids that massed on the way to their school. Both of their records and grades were good enough that if they were late it wouldn’t be much of a big deal, and between the wrath of (y/n)’s parents and Calliope’s brother, and their supposed peers relentless bullying of them, they’d take their guardians’ wrath any day.

 

(Y/n) had a reputation of being the Little Miss Perfect, and a teacher’s pet. Her quiet personality and lack of fighting spirit also made her a target. Albino trolls, and mutant blood, were doubly rare, and that was the main focus of Calliope’s tormentors. Plus, Calliope’s insecurity made it easy for the bullies to get to her. (Y/n) did her best to shield her matesprit from them, but the bullies went for her even before they went for Calliope. Something in the back of (y/n)’s mind told her not to listen to them, but every word they said cut her to the bone, even if she didn’t let it show.

 

Both girls slowed as they came up to the school, numerous other students milling about, talking, shouting, kissing, and various other activities as they waited for the bell to ring. As Calliope and (y/n) came up, their hands entwined, whispers broke out around them. (Y/n) held her head high and Calliope looked at her feet, as the jeers and catcalls began.

 

“Look, it’s the freak and the dyke!”

 

“What the fuck? A troll and a human? Now that’s fucked up.”

 

“No wonder they’re dykes, those two are so ugly no guy would go near them.”

 

Calliope let out a quiet gasp at the last comment, lime tears beginning to gather in her eyes. (Y/n) pulled her closer, attempting to keep her away from the bullies, but one of them came up close, and pushed them back to the wall. (Y/n) heard Calliope gasp as the troll’s back collided with the graffitied concrete.

 

“Why do you have to go and mess our school up, huh?” Tristan slapped (y/n), throwing her head to the side with an audible crack. (Y/n) gasped, and almost bit her tongue. She placed her hands on the wall, trying to shield Calliope more than she already was.

 

“We-we didn’t-” Crack.

 

Blood dripped from (y/n)’s mouth; she had finally bitten her tongue hard enough to draw blood. She tried not to cry; she could hear Calliope sobbing quietly behind her. (Y/n) looked back up at Tristan. His eyes burned. There was a small crowd gathering around them. Most of the kids were cheering Tristan on.

 

“You mess up our school with you breathing our air, dyke.” Tristan spat, chest heaving. He didn’t seem to notice the crowd had suddenly gone silent. He slapped (y/n) again, smearing her blood over her cheek. “You’re just a filthy bitch, fucking aliens like it’s something natural-”

 

“And you’re a stuck up dick who couldn’t get laid if he put out a personal ad.” The voice that issued carried a rough drawling accent, laced with the growl of smoke and cancer sticks. Tristan spun around, to come face to face with a girl dragging on a cigarette, one thin scar lining her jaw. Dark brown eyes glared out, and one combat-booted foot tapped against the sidewalk.

 

Tristan sputtered, eyes bulging out from his sockets, giving him the appearance of a diseased tree frog. “You-”

 

“Yeah, me.” the girl snarled, dropping the cigarette, grinding it beneath her foot, and stepping up to the boy, picking him up by his t-shirt and slamming him against the wall.

 

“So why don’t you run along to your boyfriends and play whose-is-bigger, and let the rest of us decent people actually do something with our lives?”

 

She let Tristan down, and he crashed to the ground, a small squeak of pain escaping his mouth. The girl gestured for (y/n) and Calliope to go with one sharp nailed hand, while keeping one eye on Tristan. He got to his feet, brushed off his shirt, and spat at the girl.

 

“Fuck you, Buranek.” he snapped.

 

The girl was already moving (y/n) and Calliope along, pushing them through the gaping crowd. “I’d rather do Ampora, asshole.”

 

Laughing ushered the three girls away, as they made their way into the school, before the girl stopped. (Y/n) gave the girl a relieved smile, which was returned, albeit with more of a smirk. It was just the way the girl was.

 

“Thanks, Jana.” (y/n) said, giving the other girl a short hug in thanks. Calliope did as well, then returned to (y/n) holding her very tightly.

 

Jana smiled at the girls, saluting them before turning and walking off. “No problem, ladies. Someone’s got to keep the assholes down, after all.”

 

(Y/n) and Calliope made their way to their first classes. As usual, it was boring; as usual, neither of them could go five feet without getting teased, though no one got physical like Tristan. Jana’s protection only lasted for a few days before people started going at the two again. They all knew the troublemaking Czech was on her last chance before she would get expelled, so she couldn’t retaliate much, at least on school grounds. No one noticed (y/n)’s tears, no one noticed Calliope’s bruises. It was a depressing reality for both of them that no one would notice their pains.

 

At the last class of the day, (y/n)’s social studies teacher, Mr. Vantas, pulled her aside.

 

“Did I do something wrong, sir?” (y/n) asked, voice trembling. She wrung her hands as she stared at her feet, hoping she didn’t, though she couldn’t think of anything she would have done. She beat herself up about imperfect grades enough, she didn’t even want to think about what her parents would say if she brought home another “bad” grade.

 

Mr. Vantas shook his head, kind red eyes focused on (y/n). Her nervousness grew as she felt his eyes go over her reddened ones, the dark circles hidden under fading concealer, the limpness she felt. The pain in her eyes.

 

“No, (y/n). You didn’t do anything wrong. But I’ve noticed you’ve been very tired and listless in class lately, and your grades-” seeing the panicked look on (y/n)’s face, Mr. Vantas quickly said, “while good, are not as good as they could be. But I know you work hard at school, I’ve seen you do so. And I’m worried. So, I needed to ask you, is there anything, anything at all, going on in your life that could make you feel...depressed? Anxious?”

 

(Y/n) debated with herself for a moment. Mr. Vantas was nice, a good teacher. She knew before he started teaching he had been a social critic, before he had met his matesprit Leoana and settled down with her. She knew he helped students when they had problems and didn’t act like it was Tartarean punishment when he did. She knew that when you were in situations like hers and Calliope’s, that he was the kind of person you could trust.

 

But, (y/n) also knew why she and Calliope hadn’t told anyone. For one thing, (y/n) was pretty sure what happened to her wasn’t anything close to abuse, so it wouldn’t matter anyway. She was stuck with her parents until she was eighteen, or maybe more like twenty-one, since she had college to think about. And Calliope knew that if the foster system took her from her brother, she might end up in a place even worse than where she was. Not to mention, that the only thing keeping both girls sane at this point was each other. (Y/n) knew she couldn’t do this without Calliope.

 

It wasn’t like the lies hurt anyone but herself. There’s a reason there’s white lies. And they fell from her tongue as easy as honeyed words from Ampora’s mouth.

 

(Y/n) looked at Mr. Vantas, and plastered a bright smile on her face. “No, sir. Nothing at all.”

 

***

 

(Y/n) and Calliope had to separate to walk home. Calliope’s brother hated for her to be late, and never let her bring anyone over to their house. It would be easy from someone to spill the beans if she did. (Y/n) was pretty sure that Caliborn didn’t even know about Calliope and her. Trolls were bisexual by nature, so Calliope wasn’t worried about that, but she was deathly afraid of him, and she didn’t want (y/n) within half a city of him, if she could help it.

 

(Y/n) slowed when she saw both her parents’ cars in the driveway. They usually weren’t home until later. She felt a tiny shard of worry pierce her heart, but she pushed it off.

 

_They probably just got out early,_ (y/n) reasoned, very aware of her heart growing heavier and heavier in her chest, until she could feel every shuddering beat against her rib cage. She stepped up to the door, checking the mailbox, before unlocking the door, opening it, and freezing.

 

Both of her parents stood there, with looks that could freeze oceans. Her mother’s arms were crossed over her tailored suit, one high heeled foot tapping against the ground. Her father had that look, the look that radiated disappointment and a hint of anger. (Y/n) shut the door and locked it with shaking hands, her mind going five thousand miles a minute.

 

_What did I do? What will they say? Oh God, oh Jesus, please anyone that’s listening, please. Please._

 

“We got a call from the school today, (y/n).” her mother said. Her voice was cold enough to make (y/n) shiver involuntarily. “They said you got into a fistfight with a boy named Tristan Rogers. They also mentioned you called him various offensive names, while beating him up with an accomplice as yet unidentified. I thought we raised you better than that, (y/n)”

 

That dirty, stinking fuckass, (y/n) thought, internally seething. She raised her head and looked at her parents, attempting to keep calm. “I swear, I didn’t-”

 

"Bullshit!" (y/n)’s mother snapped. (Y/n) flinched away from her voice.

 

Her father put a hand on his partner’s shoulder, and she took a deep breath, calming herself.

 

“You’re grounded for three months.” she said quietly, wringing her hands. “Your father and I will discuss the rest of you punishment later. For now, I want your laptop, your CD’s, your phone-everything.”

 

(Y/n) gasped. If she was grounded, and had no internet, how would she talk to Calliope? “But I-”

 

"Now, (y/n)." her father said, steel entering his voice. He had an arm wrapped around his partner, as she held her face in her hands.

 

(Y/n) slowly made her way up the stairs. After she shot a quick message to Calliope, she piled her things outside her door, shut it, and locked it. She didn’t even bother taking off her makeup, or changing into her pajamas. She just curled up on her bed, and cried, and cried until she didn’t have any tears left. Then, she was left shaking and drily sobbing, until her exhaustion finally took her over.

 

(Y/n) didn’t see Calliope for a week. Her parents kept her out of school, to talk with her. To drill it into her over and over again, that no matter how hard she tried to make them proud, it would never be enough. She stayed sobbing in her room for three days, until her parents dragged her out to do something ‘for the family’. That was even more tormenting, because she was paraded around with other perfect kids, to show just how great their parents were. The only thing she had to look forward to was night, when she could curl up and cry herself to sleep.

 

When she finally went back to school, she avoided Calliope as best she could. It tore both of the girls apart, but (y/n) thought it would be the best. It had finally been enough for (y/n), and she just wanted to make things easier for the person in the world that mattered most to her. All (y/n)’s friends were mystified at her behavior. And Calliope, well, Calliope was a mess.

 

It was a Friday, that day. (Y/n) had spent the whole day at school just watching Calliope, engraving the troll’s face behind her eyelids, until every time she closed her eyes, Calliope’s face was emblazoned on the black canvas. That was exactly what (y/n) wanted. Calliope was the most precious thing to her. She wanted Calliope’s face to be the last thing she saw.

 

(Y/n) went home quickly, wanting to make sure to be done long before her parents got home. She walked up the stairs, forgetting to shut and lock the door, or maybe she just didn’t care. It wasn’t like it would matter much, after this point.

 

She sat at her desk for a half hour, writing a letter on notebook paper with her favorite colored pen. While she was writing it, some of the ink splashed on her pointer finger. She smiled faintly at the stain on her finger. When she was done, she sealed it in an envelope, and addressed it to the one person she loved above all others. It was left on her bed, the door left open, a single creamy mar on the flawless surface of her room.

 

The water ran clear and warm through the tap, filling up the tub until it was still, and (y/n) could see her reflection in it. Cherry red droplets dripped into the tub, falling from (y/n)’s arms as she worked quickly. When she finally sank into the bath, her vision had begun to go blurry.

 

(Y/n) closed her eyes, and Calliope’s face appeared under her eyelids, smiling brightly and happily as she always did, no matter what happened to her. (Y/n)’s lips curved up, as she felt the familiar blanket of sleep go over her eyes. She sank down, her head going beneath the water, and the stars came down and sparkled beneath her eyelids, lighting up Calliope’s face like the angel she was.

 

“Goodbye, Calliope. I love you.”

 

Just like (y/n) wanted, Calliope’s face was the last thing she saw.

 

***

 

Calliope walked as fast as she could towards (y/n)’s house, lime tears blurring her vision. (Y/n) had been avoiding her for weeks, and she could guess it had something to do with her parents. (Y/n) looked worse in the past three weeks then she had in the entire time Calliope had known her, and she was scared. Exactly what, she wasn’t sure, but Calliope had a pounding in her blood pumper and the back of her head, and it wasn’t good.

 

Calliope broke into a run when she caught sight of (y/n)’s house, only to slow, and finally stop in shock. The door was wide open, moving back and forth on its hinges with a sound of groaning metal. Calliope felt the cold run down her spine, pierce her flesh, and worm its way into her bones. With shaking hands, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed 911.

 

The phone picked up on the first ring. _“911, please state your emergency.”_

 

Calliope’s voice shook as she spoke as quietly as she could into the phone. “H-hello, I went over to my matesprit’s house after school, but when I got here, the door was wide open, a-and, I know she’s careful not to let that happen. I’m scared someone is in the house.”

 

_“Please remain calm, miss, and move away from the building. Police officers have been dispatched and are on their way.”_

 

Calliope moved away from the door, only to stop when she noticed a thin trickle of water running down the stairs, and that it had soaked part of the carpet upstairs. Dropping her phone, all thoughts of her own safety forgotten, she ran up the stairs.

 

The door to (y/n)’s room was open, and a single envelope rested on her perfectly made bed. Calliope barely noticed that, though, over the fact that there was water soaked into the carpet, leaving it translucent and squishy, with a hint of pink to it. Calliope’s blood ran cold. She ignored the note, and ran over to the bathroom, pounding on the door. It hadn’t been shut properly, so it swung open easily.

 

Calliope screamed. She rushed over to the bathtub, overflowing pinkish water tumbling over the edge, and yanked (y/n) out. Her head lolled back on her shoulders, eyes shut with a serene smile on her face. Calliope, barely hearing the wail of sirens over the pounding of her heart, frantically wrapped a towel around (y/n)’s freely bleeding wrists. She bent over the girl’s face, lime tears running down her face and exposing the fresh bruises covered by the face paint.

 

“Please wake up, (y/n).” Calliope begged. Something in the back of her mind registered pounding up the stairs, and people trying to pull (y/n) from her grasp. She kept her eyes on the smiling face, pleading, begging any higher power that her matesprit, the love of her life, would wake. 

 

“Please….please don’t leave me.”


End file.
